


Head up. Back Straight. Deep breath. And go...

by Mystery_Name



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: I feel sorry for Peter, Other, Sad, So many deaths, but still a few personal microscopic things, his thoughts and feelings, hurt!Peter, mostly from the Amazing Spider-Man movies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 12:15:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5333747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystery_Name/pseuds/Mystery_Name
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little do they know,<br/>That beneath this mask there was a broken soul.<br/>Little do they know,<br/>That behind these jokes is a broken heart.<br/>And little do they know.<br/>That this boy isn’t whole.<br/>Little do they know.<br/>That I’m falling apart.<br/>3 <br/> (A/N Peter just needs one giant hug, and a bunch of blue cookies) (this is dedicated to aloneintherain because her stuff is so awesome and inspired me, check her out!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Head up. Back Straight. Deep breath. And go...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aloneintherain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aloneintherain/gifts).



> Peter has had so many people die on him, it makes me sad. And he always feels so guilty and sad.   
> This little one-shot was inspired by some of the works of the fantastical writer aloneintherain her stuff is amazing people, you should check out her stuff. She writes Peter really well.   
> This isn't as good as her stuff, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. :)

Little do they know,

That beneath this mask there was a broken soul.

Little do they know,

That behind these jokes is a broken heart.

And little do they know.

That this boy isn’t whole.

Little do they know.

That I’m falling apart.

</3

Head up. Back straight. Deep breath. And go.

There’s a gunshot, a surprised grunt. A body hits the pavement, and crimson blood pools like scarlet water. I should have been there; I should have stopped it. I _could_ have stopped it.

At first I was grief-stricken, the guilt felt over-whelming and I didn’t think I could go on. But then I was angry, the man that did this was still out there. Trapped in an abandoned warehouse, barely out of the police’s reach. I didn’t even think as I pulled on my mask, and swung to the warehouse.

Where was he? I knew he was there, he can’t hide from me.

I search the warehouse, looking in every nook and crevice-THERE. Right there, by the window; watching all the police swarm down below. He never expected me, I came out of nowhere. I grabbed him, I punched him, I tried to make him felt the pain I felt. His face is lit up by the discreet light of a helicopter flash.

Him. The man I let go. He shot Uncle Ben. I could have stopped him, and I didn’t. A new wave of guilt washes over me, and I almost drop the man-the murderer. He whimpers pathetically, begging me to let him go. Did he let Uncle Ben go? Did he just walk away when he had the chance?

No!

I slam him into the wall of the warehouse, effectively knocking the breath out of him. “You killed that man out of cold blood.” I told him, surprised with how cold and stoic my voice sounds. “You didn’t show him mercy; why shouldn’t I do the same for you?” he only whimpers again, and apologizes, and begs, and pleads. But it only makes me angrier, his words were useless. His words won’t bring Uncle Ben back.

But killing him wouldn’t bring Uncle Ben back either.

I slowly unpin him from the wall, but my grip on him doesn’t slacken. I glare at him through the white lenses, and pray that he can still see every emotion going through my eyes.

Then I wrap him in a web, and let the police take him away.

At Uncle Ben’s funeral, it was a sunny day, but it felt cold. Aunt May is crying, clutching on my arm as if to be sure I wouldn’t be going anywhere either. I won’t, I can’t, leave her alone. The ceremony feels like it’s over before it begun, and soon everyone is heading home. Aunt May and I are the last ones standing, staring at the fresh grave before us. Then Aunt May goes, and I’m left there alone.

I kneel down by it, and I sit there. I talk to him, my voice cracks, and I never notice that I’m crying. I ask him to forgive me, _please forgive me. I didn’t mean to let you die…_

I leave a yellow rose at his grave, because he loved them so much. My head hangs down, as if weighed down by all the guilty thoughts that shroud my mind. But when I realize other people are out there, getting hurt I know I must do something. If not for myself, then for Uncle Ben.

I put my mask back on; I grab my web-shooters _. With great power comes great responsibility._

Head up, because there’s someone out there who needs you.

Head up.

</3

I should’ve been more careful.

I should have fought harder, been faster. Maybe I could have gotten the cure faster, and I could’ve saved him. He saved me. I wish I could return the favor.

The Lizard had not held back, Captain Stacy was covered in blood and sweat. He held tight to his chest, his face twisted into one of pain. I try to stop the bleeding, Gwen needs him, he can’t die.

But it doesn’t seem to help; I can tell by the way his eyes look that he won’t last much longer. But I have to try anyway, I have to. He’s depending on us, please, please, please, please….

He grabs my hands, “Stay away from Gwen,” he whispers, “Leave her out of it.” And suddenly he’s gone.

I’m left on the building, holding the bloody corpse of Captain Stacy. I stay there, he can’t be dead. No, he can’t be. No, no, no. I’ve failed him, I’ve failed Gwen. Please come back Captain Stacy, you can’t leave your family. Not like this. I’m not sure when I leave; the look on Gwen’s face stabs my heart with a frozen blade.

I’m sorry I couldn’t save him.

I watch the funeral from a far, afraid that my presence would somehow disrespect the fragile ceremony. I watch as they lay him down, I see tears, I see pain, and grief.

I must stay away from Gwen. I can’t let her end up like that too.

Deep breath, because when you breathe someone else continues breathing too.

</3

I never wanted it to end up like this.

I wish I could’ve helped him, but what could I have done. He was my best friend, and I failed him too.

We fight, and fight and fight. But Harry won’t give in. “You betrayed me,” he yells,” I thought we were friends”. We are friends Harry, we are. Aren’t we?

I guess not.

He doesn’t look good, his skin looks faded with veins of green webbing across his sin. He where’s an odd looking suit, he’s riding a glider, and he’s laughing manically. Was there something I could’ve done to save him? Was I just not looking hard enough? Have I really just betrayed my best friend?

I wish I could help.

At the end of the day, Harry is locked up. But that stabbing pain in my chest won’t go away. _Please make it go away_. I want to help, I want to help….I just don’t know how.

I want to give up, I want go home, I want to hide from my troubles. But I can’t.

Back straight, because people need you to be strong.

Back straight.

 

</3

I should have stayed away.

It was her father’s dying wish, to stay away from Gwen Stacy; to keep her safe from harm. It seemed like a simple task, but it proved to be impossible. Gwen was one of my weaknesses, i couldn’t stay away. And look where that got me.

I can barely look at the faces of the devastated Stacy family, first their father, now Gwen too. Life seemed so unfair.

The audible snap that had emanated from her body still rang inside my head, it was worse than my spider sense combined with a major headache. It echoed inside my head like an endless cavern, it haunted me in my nightmares, and stalked me during the day.

So close, I was so close to saving her. If I had been faster, maybe I could have saved her. I should’ve made sure she never followed me, and then maybe she’d be here today. I couldn’t look at my mask without the feel of a crushing weight on my lungs, I didn’t save her. Out of all of the people in New York, it was Gwen Stacy whom I couldn’t save in the end.

So I stowed the suit in my closet, under the protection of boxes and clothes; as far away from it as I can get from it. I go to Gwen’s grave every day, bringing new flowers to decorate the lonely tombstone. It’s cold most of the time, but I can hardly notice. Besides, I like the numbing sensation; it helps dull the pain.

_Please Gwen, please come back to me…_

A crack spreads among my dam of stowed emotions. The quilt, the grief, the anger, and sorry. It all leaked through, before trickling, and now erupting in one gigantic, overwhelming wave. How can I go back to being Spider-Man, if I can’t even save those closest to me?

_I miss you Gwen…_

I wish I could blame Harry; I want to aim all my anger and frustration out on him. He was the one of had taken Gwen in the first place, knowing it would get to me. But that was the problem. Me. Because of me, Gwen was targeted.

But I can’t, I have to take responsibility for my own actions.

It’s a while before take the costume back out. Gwen would want me to keep fighting, so would Uncle Ben, even Captain Stacy. They fought till their dying breaths, and so will I. So I go back out there, I watch over the city attacking villains with a false smile and witty banter.

They can’t see me weak, I have to stay strong. For my city. For all those who’ve died in my hands, or who’ve changed because of me.

I must go on, push forward.

And go, because if I don’t who will?

Head up. Back straight. Deep breath. And go.

Head up. Back straight. Deep breath.

And go…

**Author's Note:**

> Also, the yellow rose was inspired by one of aloneintherain 's fics, so that goes to her.   
> I hope you enjoyed. This was kind of slapped together because I wanted to write it down before the inspiration left me, and I got to lazy to fix stuff.   
> So apologies about that.   
> Hope you liked it. :D


End file.
